


TWKB 2018

by Faetality



Series: TWKB [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Dancer, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Angel Stiles Stilinski, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Peter Hale, Car Sex, Clothed Sex, Dancer Peter Hale, Dancer Stiles Stilinski, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom Chris Argent, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Exhibitionism, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, Fix-It, Handcuffs, High Heels, Lawyer Chris Argent, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Mentions Of: sentient creature sex, Multiple Orgasms, Office Sex, Outdoor Sex, Phone Sex, References to Knotting, Safeword Use, Sassy Peter, Serial Killer Peter Hale, Sex Pollen, Sub Peter Hale, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Peter Hale, Young Chris Argent, Young Peter Hale, its implied okay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-05-28 11:28:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15047900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faetality/pseuds/Faetality
Summary: A collection of prompt fills created for the Teen Wolf Kink Bingo (2018).Pairings and square filled are in the chapter titles, additional tags at the beginning of each chapter.





	1. Peter/Stiles - masturbation

**Author's Note:**

> Peter/Stiles for the square "masturbation" .  
> other Tags: dirty talk, phone sex, mentioned threesome, mentioned overstimulation, alpha Peter Hale
> 
> AN: this is a snapshot from my fic universe in "Take This Chance" set far in the future of the current story plot

“- _ hello _ ?”  
  
“Stiles, did I interrupt something?” Peter was lounging in a large armchair, the house empty but for the alpha himself.    
“No. Nope. You definitely did not uh, interrupt anything.”    
“So you didn’t have your hand wrapped around your cock when I called you? You weren’t moaning and panting while you lost yourself in some fantasy?” He kicked his feet up onto the matching footrest and let his legs fall wide while he settled in for a round of teasing. He did so enjoy simple pleasures.   
  
On the other end of the phone Stiles was quiet but there was a rustling of sheets and then, “No.”   
  
“Lying is a sin you know. Tell me, what were you thinking about? Were you thinking about how it feels when I get you spread out on the bed, licking you open until all you can do is beg? Or maybe what it would feel like if I rode you?” There was a sharp intake of air, “tell me, Stiles.”   
  
“I was thinking- thinking about you and Chris.”     
  
“Take your hand off your cock, you’ll touch when I say you can. First, you have to tell me what you were thinking about.” Peter closed his eyes, let one hand slide to cup his own half hard erection through his lounge pants. The almost silence stretches out, “Stiles.” He singsonged, prompting a quick rush of words.   
“He was teasing me and telling me that as soon as I was ready he was going to fuck me so hard and after you’d eat me out just so I could go again.” The younger man was panting like he’d run a mile. Peter smiled.   
  
“Very good, go on, wrap your hand around that pretty dick and stroke yourself for me.” He could hear the tell tale sound of Stiles obeying and slipped his own fingers beneath the waistband of his pants. “Do you know what Chris would do to you? Once he has you spread out on the bed? I know. He’d spank your pretty ass until it was as red as my eyes, not because you did anything wrong, no, he would do it just because he could. And you would _ love it _ . No no, slow down, you don’t get to come yet. Do you think he would rim you open first Stiles? I do. I think you would be crying from his tongue before he even thought about letting you fuck his fingers.”    
  
“Peter-“   
  
“He wouldn’t let you come, every time you would get to close he would stop, or maybe he’d just wrap one hand around your cock and squeeze. Imagine it Stiles, his hands on you, one stroking you while the other stretched you out for him to fuck.” Chris’ hands were rough, walking that fine edge of pleasure-pain that was all pleasure where Peter was concerned. On the end of the phone stiles was letting out breathy little moans, “Hard and fast or slow and tender, Stiles? How would you like it?”   
  
“I don’t know.”   
  
“I think he would try to keep it slow but we both know Christopher isn’t one to hold back. He’d fuck you until you really were screaming for him, he’d let you come on his cock alone and then he would just. Keep. Using you.”   
  
“Peter, I can’t“   
  
“Then, just when you don’t think you can't take anymore, when he’s finished and you’re cleaning his cock; I would rim you. Just like you asked. I don’t do that for just anyone, I hope you know, it would be sweet though. Having you under me. Watching dear Christopher take you apart just so we could put you back together again. I think you would let him do anything, wouldn’t you? I bet at the end of it he could slip an entire fist inside of you and you would take it beautifully.”   
  
“Peter please!”   
  
“Do you want to come?”   
  
“Please.”   
  
“Please what, come on baby. You have to tell me what you want.”   
  
“I want to come, _ please _ .  _ Please, Peter _ .”    
  
“Then come for me, go on, let me hear you, sweetheart.”   
  
There was gasping moan as if Stiles was trying to stay quiet as he fell over the edge, but that was okay. Peter would forgive him, when he spoke again it was breathy and Peter outright grinned. “That... was amazing.”   
  
“When you come home we’ll have to make your fantasy a reality.”   
  
“Would Chris be into it?”   
  
Peter laughed a bit, “Have you met the man? Even if he wasn’t, I can be quite persuasive.”   
  
“I think I’ll be down in three weeks, how’s the pack?”   
  
“They’re good, be better when you get here.” Peter looked out the window to see lights coming down the driveway. “Chris is home, do you want to talk to him?”   
He could imagine the flush as Stiles said,   
“Ah, I’m sure he’s tired I’ll call him later. In the morning. But uh yeah, I’ll be home soon. Love you both.”   
  
“Love you too, get some rest.”   
  
“Peter, I’m back.” Chris paused in the doorway, looking over the wolf who still hand one hand down his pants with a small smirk.    


“I was on the phone with Stiles. He’s going to be back soon.” Chris walked over and leaned down for a kiss.    


“That’s good. Can I give you a hand?” Peter grinned, rolling his hips up in a tease.   


 It was time to start working on their boy’s welcome home party.    



	2. Chris/Peter - hog tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris learns a lesson in rope works, its a shame only one other person is there to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris/Peter for the square "hog tie"   
> Other Tags: Bondage, dubious consent, young!Chris, Young!Peter, oral sex, handjobs, blowjobs, outdoor sex,

“Well isn’t this a pretty sight.” words distorted by fangs, the presence of a wolf in the clearing unmistakable as claws shredded bark from a tree. Christopher froze where he had been struggling to get free of his father’s latest ‘training’ exercise. This punishment might well be his life, he was going to die because of dumb mistake and loose lips. The wolf was circling outside his sight, drawing closer with each pass. “All alone, a present just for me.” there was a small fray in the ropes trying his ankles and he frantically tried to widen it, to die on his feet would at least be worthy of him.    
“Oh, none of that.” they had stopped behind him, leaves crunching as the beast crouched down. Chris closed his eyes a moment before throwing himself to face the wolf, to see his death. The creature was barefoot, jeans draping over the tops and muddy from the trek through the woods, eyes moving further up gave the sight of a bare chest, a little dirt streaks and damp and finally “Aren’t you just for me, Christopher?” 

_ Peter.  _   
“You’re pretty like this… lucky I’m the only one out here aren’t you?” fingers pushed through his hair, damp as it was and lingered behind his ear where the rag that gagged him pressed harshly into his skin. Chris pushed his head into that hand, glaring at the wolf as though it might make him take the gag off. Peter just grinned. “Be good and I might take it off.” 

_ Fucking- _ self absorbed wolves and their damn superiority complexes. Claws ran down his arm, skimming over the thick knot of ropes around his wrists, trailing over his thigh to  where his ankles were similarly bound and leaving his skin tingling in their wake. “You must’ve really fucked up this time. Not that I’m complaining.” Yeah, he was definitely  _ fucked up  _ if Peter Hale was a comfort. That said, there were far too many creatures out for him to not be comforted by familiarity. The wolf wouldn’t let him be killed, hopefully. Those fingers trailed back up, pressing against the front of his jeans, the fangs may have retreated but there was no mistaking the wolf for what he was,  _ a predator.  _ “What do you say, Christopher? Should we have a little fun?”  And Chris was the prey.

The button on his jeans was undone, zipper loud in the late evening air. Chris canted his hips forward as much as his position allowed.. Peter’s claws were still out and the proximity of them to his dick as the wolf drew his cock into the air made him still, muscles straining against his bindings. The wolf’s palm rubbed over the head once before his fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft. Peter’s eyes glowed golden and he grinned, working the hunter’s cock over until his was letting out small huffs into his gag and he wasn’t able to keep his hips still any longer.   
He’d been sharing close quarters with other hunters for months now, hardly a free moment to take care of himself and the wolf’s hand, with the edge of danger the came with it was enough to have him on the edge of falling over before they even truly began. Peter Hale was always more wolf than man, sharp and intelligent and instinctive… he was wild and untamed and that made Chris  _ want.  _ To clash against him and let his restraint shatter. 

“Look at me,” his eyes snapped open, chest heaving, the ropes around his wrists were chafing and he wouldn’t be surprised if there was blood, the sharp tang of it onlynserving to rile the wolf up   When he finally escaped he knew there would be bruises. “I could leave now, let you take care of yourself.” contradicting himself he pressed his thumbnail into the slit and Chris dropped his head forward to his chest, finally getting the gag loose enough to slip down his chin. 

“Peter, don’t you dare.” 

“Oh honey, I most certainly would.” then Chris was surrounded by heat, a hotter than a human, almost too hot _perfect_ mouth. He was gasping while the wolf took his time working him over. Peter sucked cock like he was born for it. His tongue flicked against the underside of his cock, tracing up the vein before too bright eyes looked up at him and Chris was over the edge. Peter took him down to the base, holding himself steady while Chris came, ropes holding him straining harshly.  Slowly he came down from his high, Peter was sitting up, appraising his own thumb where he’d caught the cum he hadn’t quite swallowed.   
“Peter-” the wolf licked it off and if he hadn’t just came Chris would have sworn he would be hard again. As it was he simply sagged against the dirt, letting Peter zip him back up and climb to his feet, walking around to slice through the ropes holding him. 

“I expect repayment.” he was lifted effortlessly to his feet, swaying toward Peter with a grunt. 

“Where are your shoes?” 

“Didn’t want to get them dirty, I didn’t think I was going to be dragging you back through the woods tonight. What did you do?”

Chris leaned into the wolf with a huff. 

“Gerard said I didn’t know how to tie a proper knot.” 

“Maybe you can practice on me.”  

He really shouldn’t have laughed at that.   


	3. Stiles/Peter/Chris - sentient creature sex (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets cursed and its up to Stiles and Chris to get him back to human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter/Stiles/Chris for the square 'sentient creature sex'   
> Non explicit, overall rating between T & M. 
> 
> other tags: AU), alpha!Peter, spark!stiles, full shift Peter, future fic, Stiles is in his twenties and an FBI agent, Peter has a pack,

Things had been quiet for months, their pack was settling, Chris hadn’t gone away on business in weeks and Stiles had time off. Things had been good, with everyone settling back into their own skin and building up the bonds between them with the new additions to their little group. So, of course, something had to happen. The mountains were home to a lot of stories, a lot of magic, and with the knowledge of the Nemeton nestled not far from their new land came some caution. Not so much of course that it stopped the pack from running miles and miles out on the full moon. The moon was three days prior and, despite the fact Peter had run with the rest of them, letting out the energy that built up under his skin he was restless once more.   
He came down the steps, in grey sweats, the first sign that he was growing antsy. Peter rarely wore anything less than designer best even around the house, the sweatsuit only showed itself when he was getting ready to run and shift on their property. He didn’t mention where he was headed, simply crossing the living room to drop a kiss first on Chris’ lips and then to Stiles’ cheek before heading out the back door.

Chris looked to Stiles, as the pack’s emissary he had a connection to the wolf's emotions that surpassed the hunter's intuition to the alpha's mindset but the young Spark just shrugged, “I’m not psychic and I’m still working out the whole werewolf esp thing. I might have to do with it being a blood moon.” Satisfied with the theory they put it from their minds. 

*

“I’m worried.” Stiles was bent over the kitchen island, eyes focused on the woodline out the window. The floodlights had been flipped on a half hour past as the sky grew too dark for either of the men to see without them and Peter had yet to return. Strong arms wound around his waist, Chris’ chin coming to rest on his shoulder. 

“It’s Peter, he’ll be back. He’s always been able to get himself out of trouble; worrying yourself to death isn’t going to bring him home faster.” when Stiles said nothing in return he scraped his trimmed beard over his jawline and followed it with a kiss. “I’m going to bed, you should too.” 

“Yeah, just, in a bit. It’s not that late and I should probably read a few of those files HQ sent out anyway. I’ll come up as soon as I’m done. Promise. Scout’s honor, I will not keep worrying over my hotheaded alpha.”   
He was halfway through the second file, interspersed as his reading was with looking outside and watching some of the better-informed mythology programs that he had saved to his youtube playlists when something came out of the treeline. It was difficult to make out who or what it was but it wasn't running and it was steady as it headed toward the house. His laptop nearly took a tumble, slamming shut with a sound that made him wince even as he scrambled to the back door and wrenched it open. Maybe he’d gotten too relaxed because as soon as it was open he was face to face with a wolf.

His first thought was  _ I really need to get the wards updated.  _ Followed by  _ Oh shit. Please don’t eat me.  _ But maybe those last few were out loud because the beast - he really didn’t think wolves were supposed to be that big, _big_ yeah, but not like, past the waist of a full grown man big - huffed at him. “Um. Peter?” another huff.  _ Okay, so… not bad. Probably not good though. _ “You’re a wolf.”

The animal,  _ Peter _ , knocked into his hip, easily forcing him to stumble back and allow him inside. On one hand, his boyfriend was a wolf, on the other hand, he was fucking beautiful. His fur was a deep russet color, flecks of gray and white along his underbelly and forepaws and the fur was long enough to be called absolutely fluffy. Once over the shock, Stiles followed the alpha to where he had hefted himself up onto the couch and he reached out to put his hand on the wolf’s side, careful and only when he was sure Peter was watching.   
Even when he wasn’t shifted touching him without letting him know could sometimes end up with a snarl, between Stiles and Chris he was getting better but old traumas died hard. When nothing happened Stiles let himself stroke through the fur which was a little matted and strewn with leaves but still ridiculously soft to the touch. 

“Not that I don’t love the look, really, but can you go ahead and shift back? We were worried.” a head shake. “Is it a spell?” A subvocal whine answered him, it was a sound he had never heard Peter make and he never wanted to hear it again. It was a helpless kind of noise and with it he shifted restlessly. “Okay, okay, I’ll figure it out.” Peter nosed at his hand until he raised it and the wolf laid his head in the man’s lap, blue eyes looking up at him almost pitifully though he would never use that word aloud. He resumed his slow stroking of the wolf’s head, thumb smoothing between his eyes until Peter went boneless. “Who did this? Oh okay, right, yes or no questions, sorry. Was it a witch?” There were only a few that Stiles knew of in the area but he'd never gotten a malicious feeling from any of them and the lack of response from Peter let him throw those out. “Druid?” no response except to nose at his thigh to get him to resume moving his hand. “Um… fairies?” 

He was accustomed to werewolf growls but in a full shift, with a wolf in his lap he was shocked by the deep rumble that came from Peter. It made his own chest vibrate, a shiver running up his spine. “Okay, so fairies... yeah. Peter, babe, you’ve gotta help me a little here. There’s a lot of fairy spells and I’m enjoying this too but now that we know you can go all fluffy you can do it later right?” that earned him a paw on his thigh, claws digging in as Peter heaved himself off the couch. With Stiles remaining on the couch he and Peter were nearly of a height like this, the wolf standing directly in front of him. The spark placed both hands on the sides of Peter’s face, leaning his forehead against the wolf’s. “We’ll fix this but you have to help me. Do you know what kind of spell it was?” 

In the next moment he was following the wolf up the stairs and hoping that Chris was asleep, despite the hunter’s knowledge and the inevitability he would find out Stiles did _not_ want to explain why Peter was a wolf to him at midnight. Some things were better left in the dark.   
  
Peter sat outside his study door, “What is it Lassie? Did you find something?” Peter nipped his hand. “Ow! Okay, okay.” he pushed it open and Peter once again shouldered his way past him, heading straight to a shelf in the back corner by the windows. Watching the wolf move was an experience, muscles shifting and rippling, displaying power that was easy to forget when he was in his human form.  
Stiles let the door click softly behind him and followed to see which book Peter had placed his paw on. He scrambled back.

_ Sex Magic, How to perform, cast, and break it.  _

 

“No. No no no. Peter, I love you but no. I can’t.” that high whine started up again. “Peter I can’t! Fuck, you are a  _ wolf.  _ I’m not going to do it, there’s gotta be something else.” the whining didn’t stop, his front paws shifting restlessly. “Shit, come here, I’m not doing it but come over here.” He dropped so that he was sitting in the floor and Peter slunk forward, crowding himself so that Stiles had a lapful of wolf. His arms draped around his neck, burying fingers in the fur while Peter licked his neck with a whimper. Speaking into his fur Stiles said, “It’s not your fault, at least I’m going to assume it isn’t because I really hope you didn’t intentionally piss off a fairy, right?” another tentative lick. “Okay, okay. I’m gonna get Chris in here, maybe he’ll know something we don’t yeah? Yeah.” 

Peter however, made no moves and Stiles had to result to lifting his head and call out to their missing member, hoping that he was sleeping light enough to hear. “Chris! Chris get in here!” 

 

The door didn’t fly open but it was a close thing. There was a gun in the man’s hand as he stepped inside, scanning for threats before he zeroed in on the fact that no one was moving or in apparent distress. “Stiles, is that?” Peter lifted his head and flicked an ear while looking at Chris. 

“He’s stuck like this, yeah.”

Chris let the gun clunk on the desk, crouched, and extended a hand out, burying it in the fur of Peter’s scruff and scratching behind his ear while the wolf laid his muzzle on his forearm. Everything in him, despite the trust he had given the two other men, was on alert. He’d only seen a wolf in full shift once before and now it was his… Peter. The fur was soft and he let himself enjoy the sensation for a bit. They both ignored the way Peter’s tail moved across the carpet. “How do we fix it?” 

“Well we know how but it requires uh, well, you see- to let him shift back”

“Stiles!”

“You have to have sex with him. Like this.” His face was red, Chris was surprised he hadn’t hid his face in Peter’s fur when he said it. Instead, he was holding Chris’ stare. The silence stretched on until it was broken by Peter who made a questing noise and licked his forearm. Chris moved his gaze to him, looking down into his eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, we’re pretty sure. At least, Peter is... It’s fae Magic.”

A deep breath, shoving aside his inner voice that always sounded too much like Gerard. “Okay.” 

Peter perked up, moving away from Stiles to nose at Chris’ neck. “I’ll do it, but we’re going to do it in bed. Stiles?”

“I’ll stay downstairs for a while, I just uh, there’s some things I can’t do right now.” Peter turned back to the spark and rubbed their cheeks together, letting him know it was okay. No hard feelings. 

Chris stroked the alpha’s back, “Come on, fluffy.”

-

Peter came back to himself draped over Chris’ back, cock still inside the human but softening. Slowly, with muscles more tired than they had any right to be he pulled back, concern welling when Christopher didn’t move. Though hunter’s heart was steady and his breathing even Peter rolled him over to make sure, smug satisfaction welling when he noted that the man must have passed out at some point between when Peter knotted him and when he shifted back. Cum ran down his thighs and the wolf in him urged him to clean his mate with his tongue. As it was he padded to the ensuite bathroom and wiped away the majority of their mess, situating his lover under a blanket and clean sheets, the comforter he dragged to the floor to deal with later. Checking that Chris wasn’t going to wake soon, the wolf slipped downstairs. He had another mate to check on after all.

“Stiles?”    
“Mm? Hey! You’re back!” 

“It’s after two, why aren’t you sleeping?” Peter wrapped his arms around the younger, scenting his neck and enjoying the moment thoroughly . 

“Soundproofing only does so much when you leave the door cracked.” 

“Would you like to join us in bed?” it was a redundant question as the pair were already heading toward the room but Stiles nodded nonetheless. 

“So full shift, now?”  
“I don’t know. We’ll test it later.” he wanted the ability to be his own, truly, but he refused to hope. Stiles laid kisses on his jaw until they reached the bed where Chris was deep in sleep. Stiles settled in on one side while Peter moved to wrap around Chris from behind, twining fingers with Stiles over the hunter's hip.  
“Hey Peter? I love you.”  
  
“I know.”


	4. Peter/Chris - safeword use

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Peter kills a man in front of witnesses he earns himself a punishment, one that may push him a little too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter/Chris for the square "safeword use"  
> other tags: dom!Chris, Sub!Peter, bondage, sex toys, fucking machine, aftercare, possible future!fic, multiple orgasms

“Not too tight? Good. You’re going to take your punishment so sweetly for me, Wolf. Going to be good for me?” The words were soothing, rough and low and pitched in a croon that had Peter sinking into his bonds under Christopher’s hands. Two days had passed since the last incident. When Peter had sunk his claws deep into the chest of a man while both Chris and the Sheriff watched. It had created enough issues for the department that Chris had been talking to the sheriff near constantly trying to make a believable story for the reports and keep hunters from coming around. It was enough time to allow Chris to calm some but he had been furious. Beyond so.    
  
It was two days since the men had shared a bed, only the briefest of kisses placed on each other’s lips in passing, Peter had driven himself into a knot of tension and, when Chris had stood silently and returned with the leather strap the wolf and snapped to attention. Every one of their sessions started with a warmup, the repetitive slap of the tool against his skin, be it a paddle, strap, or whip sent him into the headspace like nothing else. Both punishment and play with only the slightest flick of the wrist to seperate them.   
  
So they started with the strap until his skin was flushed, muscles unlocking where he knelt at the hunter’s feet. He knelt for no one but Chris and that rush of power was never taken for granted. Then they moved on to the whip, the slim design was meant to sting and, werewolf or not Peter didn’t revel in its bite as he did some of their other toys. Pain and pleasure were such a fine line for him, but it was a sharp one. Peter became pliant, moving with the slightest prodding to the rig near the room’s center, allowing Chris to fasten to ropes around him and hold him up.    
  
Pleased with how his wolf settled Chris ran his fingers down the ropes holding Peter suspended and his demeanor hardened once more. Peter was beautiful when he submitted, absolute in his trust once he pushed pass the need for control. It had taken them many times to find that perfect balance of gentleness and punishment that Peter needed to keep him In his space.    
“Since you can’t control yourself,” calloused fingers pushed through the wolf’s hair, long as he’d let it grow it was easy to twine between his fingers and wrench those blue eyes up to his own, “I’m going to leave you here and you’re going to get fucked for as long as I think you need to, understand?” A nod that pulled against the hand in his hair. “You can come, but it won’t stop because you do.” Using the wireless remote he turned the fucking machine on, keeping the setting low until Peter closed his eyes and dropped his head forward then he turned it up to a mid setting. “Alright, Wolf. I have work to finish, I’ll check in when I’m done. Now be good for me.” He brushed his knuckles across the wolf’s cheek before walking away.    
There were six cameras in their playroom, connected to a singular computer. All six cameras were trained on Peter, laptop placed at his hand, though he would be working for the duration of at least part of Peter’s punishment it didn’t mean he was going to be lax in it.    
  
In the playroom Peter let himself enjoy the rhythmic pulse of the machine, rocking lightly with each push. Chris had prepped him well, thorough if not as exploratory or in the length they usually used for their ‘playtimes’. Yet it still left him with a bit of burn when the toy, not their largest by far but among them, hammered against both his rim and prostate with every push at an increasing pace. Before too long he cracked and the first moans fell from his lips.    


It wasn’t the first time Chris had done something like this but it was rare, and he had never left him alone during a punishment. Punishments were always very hands-on ordeal, except this one wasn’t; that fact was hard to shake. There was no hands on his hips, no nails drawing red lines over his back, no cock shoved down his throat until he choked and tears ran from the corners of his eyes. There was no Chris.    
His hands flexed and curled, straining against the ropes but not enough to break them. He would be good. For Chris. He could do that much. He couldn’t be a good person but he could be good here.    
His first orgasm came on unexpectedly, spattering the floor and leaving him limp in his bonds. The machine slowed.    
It was a sweet, brief reprieve. Then it cranked up once more, higher than before, tearing a howl from his throat and a spasm from his oversensitive body as a second wave crashed over him and left him shaking. There was no respite this time.    
  
In the office Chris watched. He was beautiful like this, pliant and open, vulnerable. Peter always insisted on being sharp, guarded and cruel, like if he made himself cold enough he could never be burned again. Chris got to pull it all away, one touch at a time, he was the only one gifted with that vulnerability. Peter was fast coming on his third orgasm of the evening in just shy of two hours. They’d spoken of it once. Of seeing how many times Chris could wring pleasure out of the wolf until he was coming dry. Chris wondered if tonight they would beat their record, they had gotten to five one night before they had been interrupted. Tonight there were no interruptions.    
  
Peter sobbed with his climax, tears rolling down his cheeks.    


He was on fire. Every nerve ending was alight, too sensitive, begging for touch, anything other than the cold repetitive motion of the toy in his ass. The ropes on his skin were lines of heat, rubbing raw when they shouldn't have been but mere pressure. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to pull in a breath. Just one. If he could just hold on Chris would come back. He’d be right down. He would make that crawling feeling go away and he would put him back together before he was too broken to be fixed. He would. He’d come back. He-   
he could wait if he just…  he couldn’t do it.   
  
“S- _silver!_ ”   
  
Chris was out of the office so quickly that he had overturned his glass onto the floor, shards of glass splitting as he ran down to their playroom.    
  
Chris wasn’t coming. The machine didn’t stop. He wasn’t coming. 

  
  
Peter’s lips were moving but Chris couldn’t hear the words until he was close enough to touch. He stopped the machine, sliced through the ropes holding Peter aloft and caught him as he was released. It was a strain, Peter not being light by any means, but he cradled him. The wolf was still whispering the same word over and over; “silver”. In the two years they had been together he had never used his safeword. Had never needed too. Chris had been there to ease him back, always.    Except when he wasn’t.     
Chris got them over to the large plush couch they had installed and sat with Peter in his lap, one hand deftly getting the ropes off his wrists while the other rubbed circles on his back. Soothing while Peter pressed his face into the hunter’s collar to calm himself by scent.  
  
“I’ve got you, baby. I’m here now. I’m here.” With the last of his bindings off Peter was free to clutch at his mate, claw tipped fingers digging sharply into his skin but Chris simply continued sliding his hands over the wolf’s skin, shushing him softly whenever he whined and clutched tighter. “Easy. I’m just going to get you something to drink. I’m not going anywhere,” kisses laid to his temple and forehead. He stretched to reach the bottle of water on the side table, bringing it up to Peter’s lips after nudging him into a better position. “Sip this for me? Good, you’re so good for me Peter. So good.” 

  
“Not enough.” Eyes closed, voice small, Chris’ heart clenched. He fucked up. He’d left his lover alone, for days and then during a session.... God _damn it_.   
“More than enough. So good. So perfect. You did everything so beautifully. I love you.” He continued on with soft praises, encouragements enforced with the gentle sweeping and massage of a hand over any part of the wolf he could reach. Apologies wouldn’t be accepted and he didn’t want to force Peter from his headspace before he was ready by himself. Peter in the right headspace wasn’t going to blame himself for using his safeword, he might ream Chris for leaving him alone, may walk away, but those were two almost-extremes. No. They would talk about it like adults and accept the consequences when they were both calm.   
When the water was gone he let Peter tuck his face back against his throat and doze while Chris stayed awake, continuing his ministrations.   
  
A nose running up the column of his throat, lips against the juncture, a slow soft “Chris?”  Peter was a heavy sleeper when he felt safe enough to be and he woke slow, sleep clinging to him like the warmth of a lover who long left the bed. Coming out of his headspace was an even slower affair, usually one that was met with light kisses.  
  
“Yeah, baby?”  
  
“I don’t;” a sigh “what happened?” One firm hand running down his spine eased him back into his lover. Chris had thought for a while about the conversation they would have but it still took too long to answer and Peter’s agitation mounted again, not to be soothed with a simple touch.  
  
“I fucked up Peter; I’m sorry.” _I didn’t take care of you_. “I shouldn’t have left you alone like I did.” His arms tightened as if that would stop the man from rising but Peter just moved to straddle him, blue eyes bright and discerning, shaking off his serenity.   
  
“I called it off. You stopped. We both learned from it, yes?” A hand on his jaw forced him to look up at the wolf and nowhere else. “What did we learn, Christopher?”  
  
“We’ll talk before punishments, before anything. I won’t leave you alone.” There was a shake to Chris that Peter’s wolf railed against. Their mate didn’t shake. “Peter I-“  
  
“No.” He presses their lips together, it was gentle, as chaste as a kiss between them could be, and Peter pulled back just as slow. “I was wrong the other day and you were wrong tonight. Let’s end it there. Move on, yes?” Despite the protests welling in him Chris nodded, leaning forward to press his face against the wolf’s neck in thanks. They were both emotionally exhausted and leaned against each other on the way up to their room.

Peter ran his hands over Chris’ skin as it was bared to him before they both dropped into bed, pressed together and each taking their own comfort in what the other gave.   
  



	5. Sheriff Stilinski/Peter/Chris - handcuffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Peter are hit with a spell, the Sheriff gets to handle the after effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noah/Peter/Chris for the square 'handcuffs'  
> other tags: threesome, exhibitionism, sex pollen, dubious consent, pre-established relationships, dom/sub undertones

“Stop moving!” There was only so much that one man could do when he was dealing with the safety of an entire supernaturally inclined town and really Noah thought he was doing a _damn_ fine job of it all. The current situation, however, well, that was something he had been entirely unprepared for as the idea of Sex Pollen was foreign and fictional.    
Except, so were werewolves and werewolf hunters, both of which were currently three steps away from causing that heart attack Stiles was so concerned about.    
  
Chris Argent was, somehow, the more difficult of then two to restrain. While Peter had melted down the moment Noah snapped and grabbed the back of his neck, whining as he was forced to sit but not trying to get back up after the command was given Chris fought him at every turn.    
First, he had simply cuffed him to the chair while Stiles was frantically explaining something about witches and botanical mistakes and how glass vials really weren’t the best storage for such things but the man simply slipped the cuff and plastered himself against the sheriff’s back, using that same hand to ruck up his shirt. Pinning him face down against the counter while cuffing both hands behind his back, had yielded better results in the ‘getting felt up by the other one man who was supposed to be responsible in this mess’ department but Chris had just arched up and it took everything Noah had to hold him down.    
“So we think it should wear off but until it does, well, you see. And we don’t really know why it hit them so hard out of everyone but it’s not like they can be kept anywhere else and the loft is off limits since there’s that pack coming over the weekend.”    


“Stiles! They cannot stay here!”    


“Dad, we don’t have anywhere else and that coven is still causing trouble and I need to go to research and find a spell to keep them from turning the whole town into a strip club! Seven hours, can’t you keep them under control that long? Please? Public service and all that? I’ll buy you a steak dinner.”    


“Fine!”    


Stiles left, but, halfway through the door he called back “Plus I already know you’ve had them both over! Okay. Have fun! Bye!” It was true, he and Chris had been together on multiple occasions, edging into more serious categories. Peter was a new addition to the both of them, hesitant  to join in but drawn nonetheless. It was better if they were with Noah than anywhere else....   
And so he was left with a werewolf who was desperately palming his own cock and a hunter shamelessly grinding back against whatever part of Noah he could reach on a particular pass. “Shit, Chris you’ve got to stop. I’ll help you, I promise but you need to restrain yourself.”    


“Please, please,” Peter was panting, letting out soft words and needy noises on every exhale. Noah would have to be dead not to respond to that. To the way every gasp hinted at a growl and every plea a whine. The younger man was flushed, long hair in perfect disarray and damp with the sweat he had worked up in the past hour since the incident.    
One hand on the hunter’s hip, the other on his bicep, forearm braced across his chest. Ignore the way he arched. How his own name sounded coming from the man as he rasped his beard over Noah’s throat, trying so hard to tempt him in. “Peter.” The sheriff was out of breath, Chris was strong and while Noah wasn’t a slacker when it came to keeping fit there was still a fair gap. Noah had a wiry sort of strength and was shaped by years of hard work, a body used to being a protector and provider. In contrast Chris had spent his life becoming a living weapon. They were well matched on most days but that didn’t mean it was easy to hold him back.  The wolf froze. “Go to the living room. Kneel, wait for me.” Even drugged the man moved with sinuous grace that neither human could have achieved in their prime, he swayed a bit but made it without incident. Noah set his lips against his other lover’s ear, hoping that giving in an inch wouldn’t lose him a mile. “Chris, be good for me. Work with me, here.” In the end he half carried half dragged the hunter in and shoved him down into the arm chair where he immediately went to rise again. “Stay!” His snarl was worthy of a wolf.   
  
“Peter is going to suck you off. Isn’t that right baby?” Taking it as a cue the wolf prowled forward on his hands and knees. One hand braved lightly across Christopher’s neck, fingers putting pressure whenever he tried to rise and base on his collarbones. The other pushed through Peter’s hair to settled at the base of his skull. “Go on, careful.”    
Peter’s fingers were swift to undo Chris’ fly, fumbling just enough that the hand on his neck tightened in warning to slow down. Working open the buttons of his shirt fell to Noah, doing it one handed was a test but he managed, pushing it off his shoulders just as Peter wrapped sinful lips around the head of his cock. “Slow, Peter. Make it good.” While the wolf went to work he scratched blunt nails down the chest that heaved under him. “How are you feeling, Chris?”    


“You fucking- touch me. Touch me, damn it!”    


“I am touching you.” A pinch to one nipple. “Peter’s touching you too. What more do you want, darling? Use your words.” Noah wasn’t a cruel man though and he spread his fingers out wide to stroke toward the hunter’s cock where Peter was making a valiant attempt to take him into his throat, eyes closed as he focused on his task.   
  
“Kiss me. Noah, please, please just... anything.” He could indulge himself in that. Lips slotted together, stubble a rough drag against each other’s cheeks and Chris bucked up, causing Peter to pull back and look up at them. Noah tugged on his hair, parting from Chris with a shiver down his spine. “Make him come, baby. Make him come and I’ll let you ride me.”    
  
Chris protested and earned a hand back on his throat. “You didn’t listen. Peter did. He gets a reward and you’re going to watch while he does. Understood?” Peter was finessed in everything he set out to do and Noah knew well what his mouth was capable of. The spell had affected that ability some but there was no doubt Chris was enjoying himself.    


“Fuck!” He doubled over, threw his head back, gasped out Peter’s name, and collapsed back. Peter rose gracefully from his knees, thumb raising to wipe a dribble of cum at the corner of his lip away; Noah who had moved back to the couch made a sharp noise.    


“Leave it and come here,” Peter had always responded best to a little TLC and it wasn’t hard at all to coax him into the older man’s lap and draw him into a series of teasing kisses, licking away their third parties’ cum before dipping fingers down to tease against his hole.    


He pulled away.    


Peter whined.    


“Hush, I can’t fuck you dry.”    


“You could.” That earned the wolf a slap to the ass, growl firmly ignored.    


“I won’t. Now go get the lube.” Not a minute passed before Noah was slicking his fingers up and stretching Peter open on two. Having the wolf in his lap meant Peter was free to suck marks into his skin, any time he moved too high Noah would push against his prostate. He was far too old to be hiding hickeys from his colleagues despite Peter’s protests.    


“I’m ready. Now!”    
  
“Greedy boy. You’re ready when I decide you know that. Oh, hush, alright. Get up, there you are.” Noah moved so that he was laid across the couch, facing Chris where he struggled lightly in the chair. “You slip those cuffs and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.” Peter moved over his waist, waiting, thighs tensed at the position “Good baby, go on and ride me.”   
  
Sinking down pulled a near sob from the wolf. Relief rushing through him and chasing the need from his bones. Only for it to come back in full force as he continued the steady rise and fall. Noah’s hands stroked his thighs, encouraging as well as settling that wild part of him that had claws pricking at his fingertips. Warm brown eyes moved from Peter to Chris.    
  
The hunter had calmed since he came down from his high and there was a passing thought that maybe the spell, curse, whatever it was, was beginning to loosen its hold. “Faster, Peter. Go on, make me come.” A calloused hand wrapped around the younger’s cock, just enough pressure to help tip him over the edge as he pushed himself to go faster, eyes flaring blue before he was howling and Noah was following him over.    
Peter stirred when he thigh was tapped, urging him off the man’s cock before he collapsed down. If Noah was self conscious laying out under the wolf it didn’t show.    
  
“Don’t fall asleep.”   
Peter jerked up, looking guilty  “of course, I’ll just-“    
“I meant,” the wolf was pulled down into a kiss, “that I’m a little old to carry you up to bed. Come on.” A side glance to Chris, “you too.” Chris only gave a sly grin and held up freed hands. 

“Sir, yes sir.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any comments and critiques are welcome and encouraged. This has not been beta'd or edited outside of myself.


	6. Christopher Argent - free space?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at Chris in bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris and unknown partners.  
> Other Tags: character centric, begging, dirty talk,

Christopher was a quiet lover, generous, in tune with anyone he brought into his bed; he could read his partner like a book, wring moans and cries from them with fingers and teeth and tongue all while worshipping them as though they were a altar for his sins. But for all that he would do he was quiet. Gasping and panting as he fucked his lover, even as sweat rolled down his skin. He never screamed, never moaned or cried out his completion, shuddering out his release with a sigh.    
He was soft spoken in his curses and on the rare occasion that he spoke. Well, a mouth that filthy should be a crime. For all that his hands could do his mouth would put them to shame.    
  
“Look at you. You’re begging for it already, Little cockslut that you are. You can’t go a day without this can you? Moaning and begging for me. So beautiful. Let me hear you, baby. Yeah, just like that. Do you like this? Presenting your pretty ass for me, I’m going to make you scream for me. Relax it’s just my fingers, there you are, bet I could put my whole hand in you and you still wouldn’t be full.”    
But that was when he was on top. 

 

When it was his turn to be fucked, spread out, stretched open, and worshipped the man couldn’t stay quiet. He snarled and groaned, he gasped, begged and cursed, pleaded and  _ screamed _ . When a hand wrapped around his cock, teasingly light he sighed. When lips and teeth tugged and teased he arched his back, scrabbling for purchase while he choked off a shout. His nipples were sensitive and delighted those who found that secret, the way he moved and whined with every pull. The way he arched, face slack in ecstasy while lips formed breathy pleas, begging with his body and words.    
Face down on the bed clawing at sheets, cursing and nearly whining with every thrust. Howling his release with tears in his eyes. 

“Oh god, please. There, please, please, more. I can’t. Oh god. Fuck me, damnit! I need-”

 

Chris was a quiet lover. Except when he wasn’t. 


	7. Stiles/Derek - angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the square "angel" with Sterek  
> rating: g  
> tags: angel Stiles, fix it?,

“Come on, come on, you  _ stupid-  _ of all the creatures on earth and I! Get! You!” Derek opened his eyes with a gasp, pain leaving his chest tight but nowhere near the agony he remembered- there were sirens in the distance, the low crackling of flames and yelling of hunters who hadn’t fallen to claws or flame. But all he saw was the man who had pulled him away, who was sheltering him now, with kind eyes and spotted skin and… wings. Caramel wings curved high over them both, feathers brushing against his skin and cradling him like a child. 

“Who?” 

“So my name is unpronounceable so I’m not even gonna bother, call me Stiles, and I’m the idiot who has been assigned to look over your dumbass. You get into more trouble than anyone else on Earth I swear.” The wolf curiously stroked a hand through the feathers of one wing, feeling the way they parted and caressed, radiating comfort and love and for the first time since The Fire Derek felt safe. The angel was still talking. “You’re too pretty to be this dumb, can’t you just get a coffee shop job so I can watch you while drinking hot chocolate? that would be great, really, but no you just keep getting yourself nearly killed.” 

“Stiles?” For the first time since he’d woken, he noticed there was blood running down his chest, black lines spreading slowly but surely and he stared, a panic welling up even as he realized; there wasn’t any pain. 

“Hey, shhh, it’s gonna be alright, I’m working on it and you’re gonna be fine. I’m not as strong as some of the others and I used a fair amount of power getting that crime scene set up.” Fingers card through his hair, prompting him to lay his head back against Stiles’ chest. “We’re gonna get you back to your apartment-“ 

“Laura- she’s going to flip.” 

“She’s not, I promise, she doesn’t even have to know. I can put us in a hotel for a while if you’d like. Just for the night, get you back in your bed by morning.” Footsteps were coming closer and the angel snapped his head up, eyes sharp and with none of the playfulness that had lingered in them since Derek first looked at him. Suddenly he was being lifted, the angel- and Derek wasn’t entirely sure he believed that but what else could this man be?- holding him as if he weighed nothing, cradled like a child, still covered in the curved wings  _ safe _ . “Close your eyes, don’t move around, I really don’t want to drop you.” The sensation wasn’t too far from the vertigo one got from the swinging carnival rides that kept you in the seat from the force of will alone. At the same time it was a release of pressure, a rush of sensation, and then it was over. Derek had to wonder what it felt like for Stiles, to fly.

The hotel was nice. Nicer than his and Laura’s apartment and Stiles placed him in the middle of the one bed which was so comfortable he felt like he could stay there forever. It wasn't like his own home was bad, but it was a far cry from these standards. The wings drew back in, then disappeared and Stiles grinned at his apparent confusion, “They still exist just not visible right now. Small spaces and wings aren’t exactly a perfect combination.” the angel moved forward and sat on the bed, feet tucked up under himself as tugged at the shredded remains of Derek’s shirt. “You’re going to heal up just fine but you should probably get some sleep.”  
It wasn’t like he didn’t agree with the statement, sleep was calling to him and its pull was strong but the wolf chewed his lower lip for a moment before turning wide, hurt eyes up to Stiles’. He needed to know.

“Where were you?” There was no need for him to say more. 

The angel, for the briefest of moments, looked sad. “I had rules. I couldn’t interfere and I know that sounds horrible, it  _ is  _ horrible but there are some things that happen where we can do nothing but watch because to interfere would upset the future too much. Tonight- I shouldn’t have come down.” He was getting sidetracked and with a sigh and shake of his head Stiles settled further in on the bed. 

“The rules for my kind are very specific. If the event does not directly result in the death of a charge then a revealing interference is prohibited.” It was recited as though he had been told it many times. “If I could have helped that night I would have, Derek.” The being looked so earnest and suddenly older that for just a moment the young wolf had to wonder at him. What had he endured? 

“You said tonight you shouldn’t have come. Why?” 

“Things are happening that I can’t tell you about. Just know that I’m going to protect you. Even if you don’t remember tonight.” 

“Why wouldn’t I remember?” There was a hard edge to the question that Stiles knew would later become a staple in the wolf’s interactions. He hated that thought. 

“Some don’t.” He should have left already. He wasn’t meant to stay long or be seen. He moved to stand when a hand suddenly gripped his wrist. 

“I want to remember. Don’t go.” 

“I can stay until you fall asleep.” The hand didn’t leave and the angel twisted until he could lay beside his charge, too bright eyes on the wolf’s face. He knew there would be trouble when he returned upstairs but what was being asked of him was so small… to leave would be a sin. Hesitation was not something Derek felt often and it showed on his face as he studied Stiles in return. “What it is you want, Derek?” 

“Your wings; can you, I don’t know, hold me? It’s just. It’s- it’s dumb nevermind I know you have better things to do.” Caramel wings materialized, one settled heavily over the wolf like a security blanket. Beneath it Stiles moved the captive wrist until Derek twined their fingers together. 

“Nothing you need is dumb. Nothing you want is unimportant.” When he was asleep, the lines on his face gone, lines far too old for an eighteen-year-old to carry, Stiles carded fingers through his hair and plucked one small feather from his own wings. Derek didn’t want to forget. Stiles wouldn’t let him. He put Derek back into his own bed and placed the feather into his fingers, Come morning he would remember and Laura would be none wiser to the trouble he had caused. Stiles had done enough interference for one evening and there was a town across the country that could use a little more of it before he would stop. 

*

Two years would pass before Derek truly called on him, perhaps he wasn’t even aware of doing it but the wolf had called his name as clear as a bell and Stiles answered. There was the displacement of air and a rustling as he folded his wings away and Derek stared at him as though he was something stepped from a dream. “What’s wrong? You called me, it’s not like I’m uninvited right?”

“Somethings wrong and Laura doesn’t think I need to know. She’s going back to Beacon Hills and I just… I have a bad feeling.” Stiles moved forward to sit beside the wolf, shoulders brushing. “She won’t let me go.”  _I'm worried._  His fingers brushed across the edges of the feather Stiles had first given him. 

“I’ll go if that’s what you want. Keep an eye out but you have to ask me.” 

“Go. Please?”

“Of course.” 

*   
It was a horror show, truly. Stiles had never, in all his years, witnessed a wolf so damaged, so wildly consumed by his pain that his form was twisted into something so large and so monstrous. It was cruel. The shock wore off quickly though as Laura, not realizing  _ who  _ the wolf was and Peter not registering the girl he hadn’t felt in so long as anyone but a source of his pain, lunged. Stiles dove forward, intercepting the feral beta mid-flight and tumbling through the preserve and down a hill. Claws scored lines of fire down his chest, feathers pulled and discarded, still he held on, wings closing over both himself and the beast until the rolled to a stop, “Shh,  hush. Ow! Fuck! You not so little-  _ stop! _ ” the creature in his arms stilled, huffing sharply at the curve of his shoulder as the form slowly lost some of its mass, becoming distinctly more man-shaped. 

“Peter?” grace, just a smidgen, traced through the wolf, checking him over. “Are you using words now?”

Bright blue eyes glowed at him and a growl reverberated through his chest. “I’m not letting you go until I know you aren’t going to murder anyone.” the rumbling faded and footsteps grew louder. “We’re gonna talk. But later.” he touched a thumb to the wolf’s temple and turned his head to see Laura sliding down the bank. Hefting Peter in one arm and darted forward and had her in much the same position. 

That evening he put her back in her hotel room, a sticky note of ‘go see your uncle’ on the bedside table but the knowledge of his own existence erased. Peter he put back in the long term care facility but not before waking him up, the scars remained, for now, as did the knowledge of the angel himself. There were minds that one didn’t need to tamper with, who would only suffer more from the lie than the truth.    
“Don’t tell anyone, now, sleep.” 

*   
“Your sister’s safe. Your uncle too.” Derek startled so badly Stiles couldn’t help but laugh.    
“ _Peter_?” Shock. Confusion. Gratitude.    
“He woke up, he’s not his best but he’ll live. I think you’ll be going back to Beacon Hills soon at any rate. Your pack is getting a little bigger.” 

When Derek surged forward Stiles expected a hug, he didn’t expect the kiss. But he should have. 


	8. Peter/Chris - office sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter stops by Chris' office for some stress relief, it goes about how you would expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter/Chris for the square 'office sex'  
> Explicit  
> other tags: slight exhibitionism, top Peter, partially clothed sex, lawyer Peter Hale, lawyer Christ Argent, Lawyer AU, anal sex, unprotected sex, desk sex,

No one would have thought, looking at them from afar that Christopher Argent and Peter Hale were lovers. The famous prosecutor who had sent countless ‘untouchables’ to a lifetime in prison and the defense attorney that had never, not once, lost a case until Argent stepped into the courtroom. They should have hated each other, maybe they did at times, and that’s what they let people believe. They let them believe that the barbs they threw on the courtroom floor were the beginning and end. It worked for them.

Only a handful of people knew that when the men stepped off the courtroom floor they were, not rivals, but lovers. 

No one knew what went on behind their closed doors. 

 

Peter had entered the Argent law firm just after lunch, dropping a box of pastries on the reception desk for Chris’ assistant before walking straight into his office. He’d been there all of a minute when, 

 

“That case was bullshit and you know it.” 

“I know nothing of the sort, Christopher.” 

“Yes. You do. He walked out of that room and you know as well as I do he was guilty.” there was a calm to his voice that hid what heat was felt about the way the case had gone down. It wasn’t one against each other personally but Argent Law  _ had  _ handled the case. Chris continued writing.

“It’s my  _ job,  _ if you’re going to be angry with me over every questionably moral thing that happens in a courtroom you may as well buy a better couch.”  

“Peter he-“

“No, Christopher. In the eyes of the state of California he didn’t. Now please. Just. Shut up.” 

The silence was deafening. 

_ Click.  _ “Erica push my meeting for this afternoon back at least an hour and file the papers for me to take home tonight.” 

“Yes sir.” The chair rolled back, his steps were whisper soft.

 

“Peter,” Chris gripped the back of his neck, Peter still wouldn’t turn to him “look at me.” The hand fell to his waist when there was no move toward him. The men were of a height and it made it easy to hook his chin over Peter’s shoulder, catching his eyes in their reflection of the window.    
“I’m not trying to start a fight, Peter.”  Nothing. “I don’t want to fight with you. On any of this.” 

The scratch of his beard against the man’s neck finally bought Chris a reaction, a small sigh and relaxing of the broad shoulders he was resting against. A few heartbeats pass before the tension seeps from his shoulders.   
“Can we drop it?”   
  


“Of course.” Peter knew what it was, he always did. There were some things that Chris knew weighed on him about his job, the words would never pass his lips but it was clear to those who loved him, the way he carried tension in his shoulders, the lines around his eyes that much deeper, and Chris also knew that sometimes the men who walked from the courtroom thanks to his lover’s actions didn’t always make it far. He never said a word about that part. Peter didn’t either. 

He pressed a lingering kiss to his lover’s pulse point, taking in the cologne and the earthy scent beneath it that was entirely Peter. Despite the office job he always carried a hint of the forest, deep and clean and addicting.    
“My day is clear now…” his hands brush pointedly over Peter’s belt, rucking up his jacket and shirt. 

“Is it?” Peter rocks back against his chest, head tilting back. “Whatever should we do?” 

“I think, since this _ is _ my office, you should kiss me.” 

 

“Bossy,” but he twisted, arms coming around Chris’ waist and hands sliding down into his back pockets even as Peter gave him a wolfish grin, “what if I don’t want to?” 

“Then you’ll have to leave.”    
Peter’s lips were soft, a contrast to the neatly trimmed facial hair he kept, it made him look older and Chris couldn’t complain when it burned so deliciously against his thighs. “Well,  _ sir _ ?”    
“I think,” teeth tugged against his bottom lip, halting what was coming next until he threaded fingers into the too-perfect hair “you owe me an apology.” 

“Oh?” nails scraped over Peter’s scalp, eliciting a shudder.   
“You told me to shut up, it was rude.” The smirk on his lover’s face was too much and he tugged, the expression dropping into a slack mouth and half shut eyes. He always did love a bit of pain with his pleasure.

 

“Let me work on that then.” 

 

Hands slid to the buttons of Chris’s shirt, undoing them far too slowly for either of their tastes but if Peter was in a teasing mood Chris would indulge him, the fact he was distract with a another lingering kiss helped as well. Peter’s tongue was too clever by far. When they reached the last button Peter slid his hands over the exposed chest, his hands were rougher than anyone expected, nowhere near as callous as Chris’ own but hardened by work and life as a whole. When they passed over his sides, fingers tweaked his nipples the older man gasped and sucked in a deep breath. Peter didn’t stop, teasing the nub until they were swollen and even more sensitive.

“I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, Christopher. I promise I’ll make you forgive me.” 

With that Peter pushed him back toward his desk, his lower back hitting it hard enough to draw another gasp from him but Peter simply kissed that away too, first his lips, then the corner of his mouth, down until he could suck lightly on the man’s neck. The never left bruises that high, rumors were too pervasive to even tempt them. It didn’t mean he didn’t try.   
“I’m going to fuck you right here on this desk, do you understand?” 

“Yes Baby, do it.” 

He works Chris’ belt from the loops, considering the rich leather before ultimately dropping it. Another day, when they could either take their time or when Chris asked for it. He never asked for much, demanded only what was given, but never asked for himself. Peter was working on changing that. “I’m going to stripe your ass, maybe right before that case in November. I’ll have you panting in your chair, unable to sit without remembering what I did. How does that sound? While you watch me on the floor and think about my hands on you. I can’t wait to see you try to hold it together during that.”   
“God, yes.”    
His drags palms down his chest, Chris’ back is bowed back, thrusting his hips forward and with such an invitation how was Peter to refuse? He sank gracefully down to his knees, opening Chris’ fly and pulling the slacks down to his knees. He wanted to strip him bare but this was good, dirtier somehow.

One hand threaded through his hair again, tugging so their eyes met. The icy blue was nearly encompassed by black, Peter grinned. A hand stroked over his lover’s cock before he wrapped his lips around the head and took as much as he could in one go. The hand in his hair jerked dangerously, the one bracing Chris against the desk slid and papers rustled to the floor. 

“Fuck, Peter!” His mouth was sin itself, tongue pushing against the underside.

He sank that much further until the head of Chris’ cock touched the back of his throat, breathing deeply through his nose. It had taken him a while to take it all but now that he could? He liked to practice as often as he could. His eyes fell closed and a moan ripped from above him. Chris let him control the pace, taking as much or as little as he wanted, the only control in the other’s hands the strands of hair he held. Peter sucked particularly hard and he jerked his hips, “Stop, stop. Peter, come on.  _ Stop _ .” The noise was obscene as Peter pulled back, fluttering long lashes at his lover. Spit shone on his lips, eyes wide, throat bared... he looked like sex personified

“Yes, darling?”

 

“Fuck me, you promised to fuck me.”  He thinks that the laugh Peter gives should be insolent but instead he just finds it pretty, almost as nice as the way the attorney kitten licks the tip of his dick before rising and rounding the desk to get the lube that Chris would forever deny keeping in his drawer.    
“Turn over, let me show you how sorry I am.” Chris turned, forearms braced on the desk, head hanging low as Peter ran hands across his ass before dragging the dry pad of his thumb over the his hole. The friction had him clenching. “Can you stay quiet, love?” The fingers returned, slick still cool and Chris hissed. The first slid in easily enough, a bit of drag but it was  _ good. _ After a few minutes one finger became two, Chris’ skin was flushed, his blue dress shirt clinging to him as his temperature rose. 

“Come on, Peter. Come on. We don’t have the time for you to - ah!” His chest dropped lower toward the desk.

 

“Shh, we’ll get there, I can’t have you unprepared after all.” three fingers twisted and pumped in easily, it was enough, it was their usual prep really but Peter couldn’t help to tease. The entire case had been a long series of increasingly stressful turns and if he wanted to watch Christopher fall apart underneath him, hands clutching the edge of his desk and biting back screams then he would. He would have the whole damn world know that he was the only one to take Christopher Argent apart like this if he wanted and Chris would let him. It’s the way the man’s arms tremble when Peter twists four fingers in his hole, grazing against his prostate every other turn and the gasping cry that ends in a whine that finally breaks Peter.

He strokes himself a few times, slicking his cock with lube before he rests the head against the hole so desperately trying to close, “We didn’t lock the door.” he whispered into the back of Chris’ neck, grinning at the stutter of breath while he pushed forward. He was tight, always still so tight around him and burning like the sun. 

  
The first few strokes are slow, easing into the rhythm, Peter is still draped close over his back, lips putting tiny marks on the tan skin of his neck.”What would you do, hmm? If someone walks in on us, sees the great  Chris Argent bent over his own desk. I wonder if they’ll hear you.” He quickens the pace, chest rising and falling more heavily, levering himself up for the leverage. “You always scream my name so well.” a breathy gasp is punched from Chris’ throat on the next thrust. The sound of their fucking is loud in the office, thighs slapping together, half broken moans and gasps rising loud. The cool and clanking metal of the belt he hadn’t taken off only added to the sensations Chris was getting, the fabric of Peter’s pants teasing against oversensitive flesh. Anyone could walk in.    
  
They don’t have the time to linger nor is either of them prepared to draw this out. It’s only a few minutes before Peter is growling, one hand on Chris’ hip, the other up around his throat, manicured nails digging little crescents into the stubbled skin. “Fuck, I’m going to have you thinking about me the rest of the day. You’re going to think about me while I’m dripping out of your pretty little hole for  _ hours,  _ and when you get home?” he grinds slow and dirty, coming with a low, throaty moan “When you get home I’m going to fuck you full again.” 

 

“Fuck!” 

The edge was so close, Chris’ grip on the desk was so tight he wasn’t sure he could ever let go and his back was bowstring taut but it wasn’t enough, the hand on his throat slid down, leaving a delicious sting behind before fingers pinched his nipples and he clenched around the softening cock. “Peter-” 

“Shh, I’ll get you there.” Pulling out made them both groan from loss but then Peter was back on his knees and positioning Chris around so he could swallow him down again and it was over. Barely any suction and a light squeeze of his balls while one finger circled his puffy rim, nail catching ever so slightly and he was biting his lip so hard it drew blood. Peter took it all, thoroughly cleaning him before tugging his pants back up and tucking him in, still on his knees. His lips are swollen, hair a mess, flushed from the collar of his white shirt to his cheeks. He looked beautiful.

  
“Am I forgiven?” it’s coy and arrogant and perfectly Peter. Chris runs a hand through his hair and if the man could purr he would have. Using the strands he tugged him to his feet and took a kiss from his lips. It was lazy and left them both satisfied when they broke away.   
  


“I’ll see you at home, baby. You’d better not let Erica see you on the way out. She might get some ideas.” 

Fingers buttoned his shirt slowly. “And wouldn’t that be a shame. As if I didn’t bring her something from the bakery on East main.”

“Go on, I have work to do.”    
  


“I’m work.”   
“God are you.” Peter’s laugh was still ringing in his ears when he sat back at his desk, Peter was right. He was thinking about him for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was fun, I won't even pretend it wasn't.
> 
>    
> [Support Me on Ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/Z8Z0G2QW)


	9. Peter/Stiles - high heels

Peter Hale was one of the world’s greatest dancers and dance instructors. Sought after and elusive, high brow and whispered about. He was a dancer first, an asshole second, and a dancer last.    
Stiles Stilinski was a hip hop dancer, an internet star, and as graceful as a newborn giraffe when he didn’t have a beat.    
He also danced in heels. Peter  _ might _ have had a kink.    
  
Peter Hale was also notoriously hard to impress. Entire articles had been published dedicated to how many people he had made cry in his career. But his boyfriend never failed to do so, both before and after they first shook hands at a charity function Peter was absolutely delighted watching him. Tonight was no different. Black fitted jeans whose material was deceptively stretchy, red tank top, red heels, and eyeliner that made whiskey eyes brighter. If he didn’t know better he’d say the man dressed for him. He was seductive, the embodiment of sex on the dance floor, and that he always failed to see himself in that light only served to drive Peter crazy. It was a perpetual tease.

  
Possession welled up within him watching the way others eyes followed the young man as he hurried to throw arms around Peter’s neck. The venue was a little place, holding a good hundred people on most nights, and it was nice enough but far below Stiles’ talents as Peter was always ready to remind him. That every time Peter saw him on the stage and had to watch as other men and women undressed him with their eyes filled him with a rage unbridled didn’t matter. Stiles loved the little place and Peter indulged. The way Stiles kissed him and allowed his displays of affection helped as well.    
They were of a height, usually, but in heels Stiles had to lean down and Peter didn’t care a bit, he’d carry his boy across the earth if he only asked.    
  
“You’re here early.”    
  
Peter let fingers slip up under his tank top as Stiles leaned back. He smiled so brightly it was nearly blinding. It was all for Peter.     
“I thought I might surprise you before you went on. A good surprise?”   
  
“Definitely a good surprise. Come back with me? I’ve got about an hour before I have to perform.” Oh, his boy was sly. Contenting himself with the promise of privacy soon he moved his hands to more respectable positions and accompanied Stiles toward the back. The bartender that evening was one Peter didn’t recognize and he glared the man down when his eyes lingered too long.    
  
The moment the door to the modest dressing room was shut and locked Peter found himself with an armful of beautiful young man, long legs wrapped around his hips. Stiles was deceptively heavy, frame lithe but corded with pure muscle, Peter didn’t mind. In fact he had taken up a more extensive routine just so he could hold him so, he’d never been weak but a little extra work never hurt. 

  
“I missed you.”    
  


“Show me how much?” And who was Peter to deny such a request? He turned, pinning Stiles against the door and pressing kisses to his mouth until the younger dancer opened for him; it didn’t take much. Stiles surrendered so beautifully, offering everything he had up to Peter and the older man adored it. There were some things he would never take for granted and the way Stiles looked at him, like he hung the moon and every star in the sky? Yeah, that was something he cherished. 

“Fifty two minutes,” 

 

“If you keep counting down I’m going to spank you for every minute left.” 

“Kinky. Oh, _ow_ , oh business trips make you grouchy, got it.” Stiles latches onto Peter’s neck and marks him, just one pretty mark low enough to be covered but high enough to know it was there. “Wanna touch you, wanna taste you. Come on, Peter, come on.” with how he’s pinned against the door he was see their reflection in the mirror, see the way his own legs curl and cage and his hands where they clutch and bury themselves into Peter’s too soft hair. The way his heels pressed into the small of the elder’s back was whole different kind of sensation and Stiles almost hoped there would be a bruise later, a little reminder of what they had done. 

 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet boy.” but he’s lowered to the floor and Peter lowers himself to the floor, bright eyes looking up at Stiles through his lashes. “Is this what you need?” 

“Please, you dick just hurry before someone comes that isn’t me!” 

The man’s pants were dragged down his legs and Peter laughed against his hip, nipping softly at the sensitive skin before pressing a few suckling kisses down the V. A particularly hard tug of his hair earned the younger dancer a harsh nip, “Impatient brat.” He didn’t waste time from there. Stiles was big, bigger than his lithe frame suggested and definitely more than Peter had expected when they first tumbled into bed together. It had been a welcome surprise. He didn’t start slow, Stiles was wound too tightly and the heavy weight on Peter’s tongue put him in an easy mindset. Stiles’ hands tugged and Peter moaned, Stiles bucked his hips and Peter choked. “Shit! Sorry” the fingers loosened and Peter whined. 

He smirked up at Stiles and said, “Go on baby, take control.” 

Letting go and letting Stiles take control was easy, the fast pace and just the right side of harsh thrusts let Peter sink down and relax. “God, fuck, so good-” he couldn’t breathe, but it was okay. Stiles knew when to back off, when to ease up and before long the young man was throwing his head back, gasping loudly and coming. Peter swallowed as much as he could, knowing well Stiles didn’t have another pair of pants suitable for performing and the way the fingers in his hair gentled and turned into petting while he cleaned the boy up made it more than worth it. “You’re amazing.” 

“I know.” if his voice was a little rough the rest of the evening well, that was his own business. 

“Now get up here, I have a blow job to return.”    



	10. Stiles/Derek - dry humping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm strands them on the side of the road, Stiles makes a convincing argument.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Derek/Stiles for the square "dry humping"  
> Other Tags: car sex, Stiles being a little shit, masturbation

It was raining- no it was  _ storming _ the kind of torrential downpour that led to forty days and nights scenarios. The rain was coming down so hard that Derek had pulled off on a side road after the second time the Porsche hydroplaned and declared they would wait for it to slack off. That was twenty minutes ago. 

“Derek.”

“I know.”

“Derek”

“Stiles, I know.”

“No, I mean we’re not going anywhere for a while, I texted dad and let him know. So what are we gonna do while we wait?” The younger man clearly had a few ideas from the way his hand crept up Derek’s - quite frankly ridiculously firm- thigh. The wolf glanced his way, not moving to stop him. 

 

“We’re still on the road…”

“No one’s coming out in this, come on Wolf.” The seat belt clicks as Stiles contorts himself around and leans into him to kiss his jaw. “Please?” 

There’s a sigh and then the seat slides back and Stiles is clambering over him, foot slamming into the radio, one knee pressing painfully into Derek’s thigh bone, horn blowing, and his back bowing into a contortionist pose for half a second before he’s finally  _ finally  _ settled in the wolf’s lap, knees braced wide and free to nip under his jaw. There’s an epic bitch face through his way “I’m the picture of grace. You’re so lucky to have me as a boyfriend. Oh, thank you, Stiles, for making me feel good. You have to best hands in the- oh!” 

 

Derek was never known for his patience and when it came to Stiles he was both far more and far less patient. He’s a warm, heavy, weight in his own lap and he wants to focus on that. On the way the human’s hands press against his chest but he simply won’t shut up. So he does the most reasonable thing he can- he pulls their hips together with his hands on the other man’s firm ass and clamps his teeth on the tendon of Stiles’ neck. “Fuck! Derek!” 

 

“Stop talking. Unless you’re begging I don’t want to hear it.” he spends a few more moments adding to the line of bruises just hidden beneath his shirt. It was their thing, not ready for a ring or a mating bite Derek left his mark on his partner any way he could. Bruises and marks littering his chest, the inside of his thighs, scenting him at any possible moment. 

“Fuck, yeah. Okay. Okay. I can do that.” Rough hands unbuttoned his jeans, knuckles grazing against his cock through the thin fabric, and Stiles threw his head back just as lightning flashed outside the car, illuminating the long curve of his neck, the pale skin littered with marks.  _ His marks.  _ A growl rises up from his chest. There’s not enough room to touch so he grinds up in a filthy roll. “Come on Baby, work with me here.” 

 

Neither of them was small and Stiles had more than once reminded him that he needed to invest in a car with more “room for ravishing” but until now he hadn’t seen the point. If he wanted to take Stiles or have Stiles take him then they would do so somewhere other than his car. One hand rises to cup the back of the human’s head, pulling him to meet his lips. Stiles tasted like sugar and cinnamon, untamed and teasing. He melted into the kiss, starting little rolls of his hips down to get some friction. “Derek. Derek, please. Please buy a bigger car. I want to fuck you, I want to lay you out and fuck you until you howl but you drive,” grind “a fucking” nails dig into his pecs, dragging over his shirt until the man can twist his nipples through the fabric, “clown car.” 

 

“Shut up, Stiles!” He digs fingers into Stiles’ ass and kneads. The car is rocking, rain pelting the windows, Stiles is panting in his ear and rutting desperately toward completion. 

“Come on. Come on. Wanna watch you come-“ 

Stiles comes first, fingers curling in Derek’s hair and whining sweetly against his mouth. Derek shoves his hand down his pants to stroke his own cock, surrounded by the scent of lust and cum and  _ mate  _ it doesn’t take long.  They share lazy kisses, hands tracing skin and breathing slowing to the pattern of the rain. 

“Derek” his name is a whine on Stiles’ lips and not the kind that stirred the simmering warmth in his belly. 

“This was your idea, you don’t get to complain.”   
“But my underwear-”

“You crawled on top of me, suffer in silence.” 

“But,  _ come on Sourwolf _ .”    
The rough scratch of stubble against the human’s neck cut off further complaints. 

“The rain is slacking off, we’ll be home soon.” 

 

“Then we can have round two?” 

“... maybe.”


End file.
